


Going Back the Way We’ve Come

by sobachka



Series: Zoyalai Works [11]
Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M, also the ruination line ahh, anyw i just think lawyers zoyalai deserve the world, but its not detailed, competitors to lovers, lawyers au zoyalai, theres also a sexual harassment trial so be aware of that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29484165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sobachka/pseuds/sobachka
Summary: Zoya and Nikolai have been rivals at the firm ever since Nikolai won a single case against her. And now there's a pool going for which of them will make senior partner, and she'd determined to beat him.--He paused at the door, turning to give her another self-assured grin, his words punctuated with a wink, "It’ll be a pleasure to beat you again, Nazyalensky."His head disappeared seconds before the briefcase hit the office door.
Relationships: Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Series: Zoyalai Works [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789732
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	Going Back the Way We’ve Come

Zoya set her briefcase on her desk, taking a moment to remove her coat and glance at the paperwork that’s been left there by her secretary, Genya, before speaking.

"The sign outside says Zoya Nazyalensky, so unless you’re my long lost twin, I suggest you leave," she said, investigating a folder that had been tossed onto her desk. Zoya picked it up, paging through it for a moment.

"Would you really let a long lost twin into your office, Nazyalensky?" Lantsov’s irritatingly smooth voice responded. Zoya lowered the folder enough to glare at him.

"No, but if you were, I would have liked to see you in my office. Gauge the competition."

Lantsov’s brows went up in easy surprise, but he made no move to leave, one leg thrown over the other, as if more comfortable here on her couch than anywhere else. And now she was left wondering why Genya let him into her office at all, when she was usually so careful about who goes in and out. Perhaps she thought Zoya might have grown tolerant of her insufferable co-worker.

_ Saints,  _ was she wrong.

"So, what is it you want?" she asked, dropping the folder onto her desk and making a mental note to remind Genya not to accept cases without her explicit approval.

"Just the pleasure of being greeted with your scowl at 7 am" he cocked his head at her, a grin spreading over his face. "That’s the one!"

Zoya rolled her eyes, "you’re here to waste my time then? Lantsov, some of us have actual work to attend to."

He snorted, "the  _ Sobol  _ case? Please, if you needed time to solve that one you wouldn’t be at this firm."

Zoya crossed her arms, leaning back against her desk so he could feel the full force of her glare, "how do you know about that one?"

She’d only just gone through the file herself, and Lantsov can’t have arrived more than five minutes ago.

He glanced at his watch once before standing up and straightening the jacket of his suit, that ever-present grin still on his face, "because I’m the one who rejected it."

Great. Now she was getting Lantsov’s reject cases? This would not do at all.

"And you came to boast about a much better one, I take it?" she tried not to sound too resentful.

"There’s always something to boast about—in this case, the pool going about which of us will make senior partner."

This caught Zoya’s attention, and she straightened, her eyes going wide. She had suspected for some time that a senior partner would be chosen soon. She hadn't expected to have any competition, though. But it seemed he’d only come to drop a bomb and see how she responded to it, because his hazel eyes swept her with a calculated look, turned almost amused. 

Zoya had wanted this position ever since she’d come to the firm—because it meant she wasn’t a replaceable part in the firm. It confirmed that she was the greatest. Nikolai Lantsov would not be the one to take that from her.

"how do you even hear about these things?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I have my ways," Lantsov said with a shrug, glancing again at his watch again before starting towards the door. She  _ had _ wanted him gone since he'd appeared but now she wanted to smack him for leaving without giving her more details.

He paused at the door, turning to give her another self-assured grin, his words punctuated with a wink, "It’ll be a pleasure to beat you again, Nazyalensky."

His head disappeared seconds before the briefcase hit the office door. 

* * *

Here’s how Zoya remembers it.

She had just been hired as an associate to the firm, fresh out of law school—first in her year, naturally. Juris had been her mentor, had been the one to shape her into who she was now, the greatest lawyer in the country.

That is, until the young attorney from the Lantsov firm was the opposing counsel during her very first case—and her first loss. 

The one thing Juris was sure to remind Zoya of was this: never underestimate your opponent.

But once she’d discovered that her first case would be against Nikolai Lantsov, ivy league graduate, and spoiled rich boy working for his dad, Zoya hadn’t let the possibility of loss even cross her mind.

Which had been her first mistake.

Her second, the one she would spend so long regretting, was thinking that justice was ever served in the courtroom.

Her client had been innocent, which somehow hurt even more than Zoya’s pride when the evidence started stacking up against her. But Nikolai Lantsov had arrived ten minutes late and wooed both judge and jury to his favor even before he began presenting his evidence.

Which had also been the first time Zoya had witnessed his shift. It was the moment those sparkly eyes turned from arrogant to clever. He had called on his witnesses. And then on her’s. And then on her client. And then he’d grilled each of them until he twisted a new, elaborate story into their view.

And by the time it was Zoya’s turn to defend her client, their minds had been made. She had lost before she had the chance to even begin.

To make matters worse, once the gavel had banged, sentencing her client to eight years in prison, Nikolai Lantsov had strolled up to stand beside a struck Zoya, eyes gleaming with amusement. 

"Am I your first?" he almost sounded excited, "You never forget your first."

He would have been right, even if she had never had the misfortune of seeing him again. But three months later, a new attorney had transferred to their firm, and the second Zoya had met those hazel eyes again, she knew she would spend every moment of her life making up for that loss.

* * *

"Why was this on my desk?" 

Zoya dropped the stack of folders onto Genya’s desk, right on top of her phone, which was open on a video call to what appeared to be a mess of brown hair with glasses just visible underneath. David. 

Genya sighed dramatically, fluttering her lashes at Zoya prettily, "I know you aren’t the smart one around, Zo, but use context clues."

"No, why are there eight cases I know even  _ you  _ could win on my desk, Genya." she replied, folding her arms and glaring at the red-head, who was now busy digging out her phone from beneath the piles of paper. Then something occurred to Zoya, "wait, is this because of the pool? Are you trying to up my wins with kiddy cases so I’ll get it?"

Genya dropped her phone, eyes going wide, "you  _ know  _ about that?"

"About the pool? Of course, I do, Lantsov told me."

"He… he just  _ told  _ you?" Genya’s penciled brows drew together in either shock or surprise, or some mix of the two. 

Zoya quirked a brow, "don’t change the topic, Safin. Get me some real cases and stop letting Lantsov into my office."

Genya blinked twice before plastering on a smile, "of course, Your Highness."

Zoya didn’t miss the few choice words muttered to David as she walked away. 

* * *

The only issue Zoya had with clients was that they were a nuisance.

But then so was half of humanity, and at least these paid her for her wasted time. 

In this case, though, she just wished they would arrive at the set time. Zoya had been waiting at the cafe for nearly an hour, a now-empty cup of coffee in hand. She clicked her phone on to check the time. An hour and ten minutes. 

_ Maybe I’ll just put him out of his misery and let him join his dead wife,  _ she considered. Zoya thought she would make an excellent criminal—she, at least, would never get caught.

"Shall we order?" 

Zoya’s gaze snapped up and met a pair of hazel eyes. The Saints had chosen hell for her today, she knew, as he settled in the chair across from her. 

"Lantsov, disappear, I’m working," she said, picking up her phone and making a good show of being very, very busy. She could feel his calculating gaze on her but refused to acknowledge it. She texted Genya.

> Z:  **who’s winning?**
> 
> G:  _ me, at any given point. _
> 
> G: _ but if you mean the pool, it’s even. _
> 
> Z:  **hm. who’s your money on?**
> 
> G:  _ technically both ;) _
> 
> Z:  **I’m your boss, Safin**
> 
> G:  _ wtvr. give Nikolai a kiss for me ( ˘ ³˘)♥ _

Zoya rolled her eyes. Genya could be nearly as insufferable as Lantsov on some days. Lantsov, who currently had his head propped up on his hands, pouting in her direction. Zoya huffed—did he even realize how messy he looked then? His golden hair looked like he’d run a hand through it a dozen or so times that morning, and he was in a blue short-sleeve button-down and jeans. It occurred to Zoya that she’d never actually seen Nikolai outside of work. Never in anything less than a twelve hundred dollar suit. He looked good.

"Who’s making the great Zoya Nazyalensky blush?" came his teasing voice, intruding on her thoughts. Was it her imagination or was there an edge to even his casual tone?

She shook her head, setting aside her phone and forcing all thoughts of messy golden hair out of her head. 

"None of your business," she snapped, "and you need to leave before my client shows up."

"Why’s that?" he asked, cocking his head to the side like a lost puppy.

"Because I need plausible deniability when I strangle him for being this late." 

He surprised her with a hearty laugh. Then he was sitting upright, leaning across the table as if to whisper a grave secret, "well isn’t it great that you could have  _ me  _ as your defense attorney?"

Zoya almost smiled, but the words tugged at something in her memory, making something in her chest tighten. "Who else would defend a guilty person with such conviction?"

Nikolai looked taken aback, a flash of hurt crossing his features, but Zoya had already stood up, making up her mind to leave and grabbing her briefcase. 

"I have things to do," she said, not glancing at him as she plucked her phone from the table and turned to leave. She knew without looking back that he hadn’t moved long after she’d left him.

* * *

Back at the firm, Zoya made everyone aware of her presence with the rhythmic clicking of her heels. Mainly Genya, as she stopped in front of her desk, located just beside Zoya’s enclosed office, and dropped a few forms in front of her.

"Fill those out for me, and call back Antonov- since he didn’t bother to show up today, I’ll be working late. Which means you’ll be working late. And find me some coffee before I end up on trial for murdering someone in this building."

Genya glanced at the forms in front of her, toying with a strand of hair, "oh, he called and rescheduled for tomorrow. Said he had some business to attend to."

Zoya had reached her office door and paused in front of it, turning to glare fully at Genya, "and you didn’t think to mention that?"

She shrugged innocently, "slipped my mind."

"Two coffees, Safin." she managed to grind out, "and quit telling Lantsov where to find me."

She ignored Genya’s protest, marching into her office with even more anger on her mind than there was before. Zoya tossed aside her belongings, slumping onto the couch across her desk.

She had less than two weeks to prove herself worthy to become senior partner, or Nikolai Lantsov would become her boss. Somehow even losing to him hadn’t felt as horrible as the idea of working for him. Worse than that, she knew he was a good attorney. She’d attended dozens of his court cases, hidden in the back rows, as well as spoken to old clients. And he had already had that position at his old firm, the same one he’d left to work here instead only three years prior. 

Zoya wanted to believe she was the only one for the role, but Lantsov was a competition like nothing she'd dealt with before. The single person she couldn’t decide how to feel about until today. 

_ You never forget your first. _

Saints, he was right.

* * *

By the time the words on her screen began to blur together, it was past midnight, and Zoya was still inside her office, still trying to scrape together a good defense for a client that couldn't even provide decent evidence. She sighed, tearing off her glasses and rubbing at her tired eyes. 

Saints, when had she last slept a full night? 

_ Coffee. I need coffee.  _

There was probably some at the cafeteria, she considered, ready to call out for Genya. But through the glass walls of her office, she could see the dark corridor, and Genya's empty seat. She'd forgotten that she'd sent Safin home early.

Zoya sighed, forcing her legs to stand. She slipped on an extra pair of sneakers she kept in her office rather than her heels. It was far too late for that, and besides, no one would be around to hear her. 

The cafeteria was just down the hall to the left, and Zoya was almost never there. She preferred having her food in her office, or going out to eat. And Genya provided everything else.  _ She really deserves a raise _ , Zoya considered, making her way down the dark hall.

The lights were dim and Zoya didn't bother turning them on, making out the vague shape of the cabinets and a refrigerator, the coffee machine was located just beside the old microwave that had been there since she'd first come to the firm. Someone must have made coffee hours ago, the machine was half full and the glass was cool to the touch. Zoya sighed, feeling for a mug and pouring it inside, too tired to make more. 

She sipped at her cold coffee, which did little to prevent her eyes from dragging downward, her mind from straying. 

Right now, she needed to find at least two witnesses that would be willing to account for her client. Only, Antonov had not exactly been well-liked, and his pitiful relationship with his wife seemed to be common knowledge. While hate can't by any means be considered proof of his guilt in her murder, it certainly made for good motive. 

_ Especially if somebody needed him out of the scene _ . 

A sudden crash sounded, almost making Zoya drop her mug, heart pounding in her chest. She frowned, setting it down and slowly walking closer to the source. But the halls were empty, and what little she could see was just a bunch of abandoned cubicles where the associates worked. The only other office on this floor was… 

She crossed the hall, turning right just as another crash sounded, this time shattering into a million little pieces. 

With Nikolai Lantsov standing over them.

Zoya watched for a moment as he pressed his hands together around his nose, shut his eyes tight. 

_ Saints _ . 

His office was a mess. His normally disorganized desk had been sweeped clear, all the junk he kept there now littering the floor around him. Papers and files, an open briefcase, a broken vase all around him. She watched him run a hand through his hair in frustration, his shoulders heaving with nearly palpable rage. 

And she'd forgotten glass walls worked both ways. 

He froze when he first caught sight of her, but Zoya must've had on a similarly shocked expression as well. For a second neither of them moved, and then she crossed the hall to his office and opened the door, not sure what she was doing there, but certain that he should  _ not _ be left alone right now. 

The mess was far worse up close, and Nikolai Lantsov seemed to be the worst of it. His normally perfect attire was torn, his shirt wrinkled and the buttons only half done. His tie seemed to have suffered the fit of anger, now left abandoned on the ground. And the source of the first crash appeared to be his shoe, since only one currently covered his foot, the other lost somewhere in the mess. 

He swallowed, his throat bobbing, "I thought everyone had left." 

Zoya raised both brows at him, "so you thought you'd ransack your own office? Just for sport?" 

Nikolai sighed, his eyes taking in the room for the first time. " _ Saints _ ," he breathed, but made no move to pick anything up. 

Zoya shrugged, turning to dust some glass off the very nice set of couches in his office and taking a seat. 

"I'm not here to help you clean," she informed him. 

The ghost of his usual smile twitched at his lips, "no? Then why are you here?" 

Zoya paused, not quite sure how to respond.  _ Because you're supposed to be perfect. Because if you aren't then what on earth am I? _

She shrugged, "just be glad for the company, Lantsov." 

He nodded, allowing it, and then chose to sit on the single couch beside her, not bothering to check for any shards before slumping into it. 

She watched perfect Nikolai Lantsov, son of Alexander Lantsov, golden boy, mock trial champion, and ivy league graduate completely fall apart. And somehow she got no relief from it. Somehow, it didn't make her feel any better than before. 

"So, who's winning?" She asked. His eyes snapped to her, wide and haunted. There were dark smudges under his eyes that she hadn't noticed that morning. 

"What?" He managed, still looking shaken. 

"Senior partner. Any news on that? I'm guessing everyone is betting on you, since you're the office favorite." She said. He looked tired. Lost. But they weren't even friends, barely co-workers that couldn't stand to be around each other. Surely he didn't want to discuss whatever this was with  _ her _ . 

So why did she want him to? 

Realization dawned on him and a wave of something akin to guilt washed over his features. 

"Oh, Nazyalensky." He muttered, shaking his head. He didn't elaborate further. 

Zoya was  _ not _ going to ask. They didn't ask each other these things. She didn't ask who he'd gone out with or why he'd left his father's firm. He didn't ask about where she'd come from or why she never went home in the summer. Asking wasn't their thing. 

And yet. "Any particular reason you took it out on the office?" 

Nikolai slumped further into his chair, his messy golden hair catching the dim light of his office, making his features seem almost ghostly. She'd never seen him like this, and it was partly scary, but also partly relieving. As though this were some revelation that he was, in fact, human. 

"I won't tell you it's going to be okay, Lantsov. I'm a criminal attorney, I've seen the shit this world pulls people through. I've seen how many don't make it out. But right now, I'm here, so you can either wallow alone in your misery, or be glad of the fact that I bothered to ask to begin with."

He blinked at her with some surprise, and then huffed a laugh. "Alright then," he said, nodding to himself, "I just found out my father's going on trial. And I've been tasked to be the attorney against him." 

Whatever sharp words Zoya had been preparing abandoned her in an instant. She frowned, "I wasn't aware you were a big fan of the guy." 

Nikolai laughed, "no, but I'm not exactly thrilled to be the one to try and put him behind bars. Especially not if he has Vasya represent him— the man can't work his way around a car, but he's a snake in court. I'm not even sure I  _ can _ win a case like this, even if my clients are the victims." 

Zoya nodded, her mind trying to make connections. She'd heard of the case against the Lantsov firm, women stepping forward about sexual harassment in the workplace. She hadn't realized who it was, or how Nikolai would somehow be dragged into it. 

"You're an idiot, you know." She informed him. 

Nikolai blanched, looking at her with confusion. Zoya gave him a one-shouldered shrug, "you're the best attorney here, Lantsov, as much as I hate to admit it. You've beaten  _ me _ , and I thought I was the best. So quit worrying about your own competence and concern yourself with how awkward Christmas is going to be from now on." 

He laughed with surprise, his hazel eyes almost returning to their normal gleam. 

"Nazyalensky, I-" 

"No, those were not compliments. You're the best until I make senior partner or you somehow become unlucky enough to oppose me in court again, which I doubt will happen in the near future. I haven't lost a single case in the full five years I've been practicing," she caught his gaze and leaned forward so her last words were very clear. "And that record won't change." 

Nikolai considered her, his eyes flicking over her face. She wasn't sure when the space between them had become so little, just that they were closer now. Just that her heart was beating faster now. 

"Well," he said softly, close enough that his words brushed against her cheek, making her lashes flutter, "imagine how it feels knowing I was the only one to beat you."

She let her lips curve into a smirk, and whispered, "don’t get used to it."

Then she was standing, forcing her gaze away from him and marching out of the office. It was probably time to go home by then, but with the way her heart was beating and the heat in her cheeks, the only thing Zoya wanted to do was keep her mind off of Lantsov, and on anything else.

* * *

Witnesses were a pain in the ass. They were all so saint-forsaken weak when it came to testifying. She saw the way Nikolai dealt with them, the one time they’d had to work together for a case. He played every part they needed— flirtatious attorney, gentle soul, rich golfing guy, drinks-on-me, and somehow they all worked. 

Zoya had exactly one method of dealing with people in general: scaring the shit out of them.

And that worked, too.

"That’s the court date. I will see you on that day, won’t I Mrs. Krupin?  _ Without  _ a subpoena order this time." 

The woman bobbed her head in understanding, and Zoya tried not to roll her eyes until she had turned around fully and began walking away. She needed this case out of the way so she could sleep. Or focus on other things.

Like last night. Like Nikolai Lantsov.

She shoved aside the thought, but her steps had barely gotten her out of the park when her phone rang.  _ Of all the people…  _

"Make it quick, make it short." she answered swiftly.

"That’s no way to speak to your favorite co-worker," said Nikolai on the other end, but even she could tell his humor was strained. 

"Oh, sorry Alina I didn’t realize this was you," 

"Very funny," said Nikolai dryly. "Listen, would you mind meeting me real quick? I could use some advice about yesterday's dilemma."

Zoya stopped walking, figuring a taxi wasn’t worth hailing if she was just going to turn back to the firm. She sighed, "and why would I choose to help you instead of take a well-deserved nap?"

"Coffee on me?"

Zoya considered this. "And cake."

She could practically hear his smile, "and cake." 

* * *

"What do you mean Friday?" Zoya nearly dropped her cup in surprise.

Nikolai winced, "I may have let this gather dust on my desk for a few weeks when I saw my father’s name on it. I had no idea what the file actually contained."

Zoya stared at him, trying to figure out how someone so well put together could also be so stupid. And have such stupidly nice hair.

"I’m going to try very hard not to strangle you right now, Lantsov." she said, shaking her head.

Nikolai pushed the plate with a slice of half-eaten chocolate cake towards her with a grin, "that’s what the cake is for."

She sighed, dipping her fork back for another bite. He was very lucky this place made the best cake.

"Okay, well give me some good news. Have you talked to anyone from the firm yet?" she asked.

Nikolai sighed, leaning back in his chair and making a good show of appearing very comfortable, and totally at ease. "I can’t do that."

Zoya froze, "you can’t what?"

"I can’t go to the office—legally, I can’t even step foot inside."

Zoya watched him, searching for signs to discredit this fact. But Nikolai was a perfect actor, she’d discovered as much on their very first trial. He could be completely terrified and still smile and crack a joke. 

_ Not last night. Not with me. _

"What about the people? Have Isaak find you their numbers, maybe if you ask them to meet you—"

"I tried that," said Nikolai, "and that led to a much bigger problem."

"Which is?" Zoya was almost afraid to ask.

"None of them want to testify. They’re willing to give anonymous statements, but that’s as far as they can be pushed." he sighed, a crease forming between his brows. "They’re scared of him, Zoya, far too scared to actually do anything. And anyone who wasn’t directly harmed by the man is too afraid of losing their jobs to say anything helpful. In every way, it’s a losing case, and it’ll be on my head."

Zoya tapped her fingers restlessly against the table, watching him. 

"Why’d you leave?" she asked finally.

"What do you mean?" he asked, frowning.

"Why did you leave your father’s firm. You had a good position there, you were definitely making more money, and I know you aren’t some schoolboy desperate for independence. So, why?"

Nikolai sighed, straightening in his seat. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture she was growing to appreciate, and also take note of. He was nervous. 

His hazel eyes focused on her, and there was something of a secret behind the natural gleam. "I was fired."

Whatever Zoya had been expecting, that had certainly not been it. 

"What?"

"Yeah," he said, his gaze roving over the cafe around them, words dropping lower, "about a month after my case against you, something happened with one of the secretaries. With what I know now, it must have been a similar situation, but I had no clue back then. Still, something smelled off, and I had to know. I just had to."

Zoya couldn’t stop herself from leaning forward as he grew more intent, animating his words with his hands. 

"My honest guess was that my dad had dropped her salary, or had bullied her out of the job—you never had the displeasure of meeting him, but it wasn’t uncommon. Only, he wouldn’t tell me, and Vasya seemed aware of whatever it was, but it was all so far under wraps the most I got out was her name. We got into it, me and my father, and I did what every reasonable attorney does when faced with matters regarding the law. I threatened to sue."

He swallowed, throat bobbing. "I never got the chance to. Not long after, I had transferred to your firm," a smile twitched at his lips, "hard to forget the last time someone really gave you a run for your money."

"In case you forgot, I lost that day," Zoya said, but it was the first time she’d recounted the memory without copious amounts of rage.

"That didn’t make you any less of a good opponent," he said, his bright eyes swearing his words were true. Zoya hoped the heat in her cheeks was from the sun. 

Then something seemed to click in Nikolai’s mind, and she could practically see he cogs in his brain working, "oh, Saints,"

Zoya frowned as he rushed to stand, snatching his briefcase from the chair, a wide grin spreading over his features.

"Nikolai, what is it?"

"Two good things just happened, Zoya," he announced proudly, "the first? I figured out exactly how I’m going to win."

Zoya crossed her arms, looking him over once. She raised a brow.

"And the second?" 

Nikolai gave her his most charming grin, as though he knew the words would earn him a sharp glare and wanted to revel in saying them. "You finally called me by my first name."

* * *

> G:  _ did you find her? How'd it go? _ ****

Zoya frowned as she approached Genya's desk at the same time she received a cryptic message from her secretary. 

"Who am I meant to find?" She asked. 

Genya glanced up from her phone long enough to frown, "what?" 

"This," Zoya spun her own screen so the other woman could read it, and watched Genya's eyes go wide. 

"Oh, that's not meant for you," she said. "It's something a friend and I were planning, just ignore it." 

Zoya raised an unamused brow, "okay, plan it later because we need to get a court order by the end of the day, and I'm going to need you to do that for me, Gen." 

"It's always 'Gen' when you need something," she said sadly, "never 'Gen, I've come to confess my undying love and devotion for you', always such a disappointment, Zoya." 

Zoya looked back at her, exasperating, "you're  _ married! _ " 

"That's not the point." 

Zoya rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile touching her lips as she entered her office. For once, there was no stack of papers awaiting her on the desk. Just a single envelope. 

Zoya scanned it's contents once, releasing an exasperated sigh. The court order had apparently been sent, courtesy of Genya Safin, who hadn't bothered to mention the fact.  _ Saints.  _

And it was for Friday morning, the same day as Nikolai's court date. Which meant she could either attend her own case and win, or blow it off to support him. 

_ He doesn't need me there.  _

But she'd been the only one to see Nikolai's state the night she'd found him destroying his office. He would never let anyone see him crack like that. And for some reason, Zoya Nazyalensky was finding it harder and harder  _ not _ to care about it. 

About him. 

* * *

It was nine o'clock in the morning and Zoya Nazyalensky was running in heels. 

It was a task she had mastered in college, when the overload of classes she had taken overlapped in time and happened to be full campuses apart, but she had grown rusty over the years, and her toes were already screaming in pain by the time she reached the hall. 

Zoya had not lost a single case since she'd gone against Nikolai Lantsov, and she wasn't going to lose one  _ because _ of Nikolai Lantsov. 

So when she'd strongly recommended that her client go for a change in counsel, had convinced him he'd lose the case with her as his defendant, it hadn't hurt Zoya's record nearly as much as her pride. 

Her heels clicked loudly in the empty hall when she entered, the building distantly familiar to her mind, though she couldn't place it just then. 

She found the door she was looking for, once again struck by a sense of deja vu that she absolutely had no time for. And then she was slipping inside as noiselessly as possible. 

The hall was fuller than most cases she'd been privy to attend—but then Alexander Lantsov wasn't most people. Zoya sat in the last row on the left, where Nikolai was visible leaning back against the table, seemingly at ease to everyone else. Only Zoya noticed his stiff soldiers and the way his gaze kept flicking back to his father. 

"-is that all?" The judge was saying. Zoya realized there was someone currently giving a statement, though Nikolai's broad shoulders were positioned so she couldn't see the person themselves. 

"No further questions, your honor," came a smooth voice that made her gaze snap to the right.  _ Vasily Lantsov. _ He was shorter than Nikolai, and far less attractive, with paler hair and a weak chin, his suit buttons struggling against the curve of his stomach. 

But he was also grinning as though he knew he had already won.  _ Saints.  _

"If Mr Lantsov would like to call any other witnesses…" continued Vasily, his eyes scanning the rows of seats behind Nikolai. Most of them were men, many of which she didn't think had anything to do with Nikolai's side to begin with. She frowned. "Unless of course, there are none? I believe we were promised an  _ abundance _ of evidence, plenty of victim accounts, and yet… none appear to be present."

This was the part where she expected the judge to side with Nikolai, or to at least tell off Vasily for speaking out of place. But he must have thought the same thing everyone in that room was thinking, the same thing Zoya was thinking. 

Nikolai Lantsov had no other victims to call on.

Nikolai straightened, beginning to pace towards the jury, "you're absolutely right, I have brought no one else. But, your honor, I believe any evidence, if it can be tracked to the appropriate person, with a time and date stamp, would be just as honest, would it not?" 

The judge considered Nikolai for a moment, the lines of his face drawing into a scowl, "how so?" 

"Say, if I had accounts from every single victim, their own story and a way that connects it to them, would that be considered reasonable evidence, accepted by the court?" 

He spoke like he knew the answer. Zoya tracked him with her eyes. He was watching the judge intently as the man thought of this new statement. "Yes, it can be considered reasonable." 

"Objection-" began Vasily, the voice of whom was quickly turning Zoya's mood sour.  _ No wonder Nikolai doesn't talk about him much.  _

"Overruled," the judge said, folding his hands over his stomach to watch the proceedings. He must have seen Nikolai in action before, just as Zoya had, because they both anticipated a performance. 

"I'd like to call on the same witness, Your Honor. She has all the evidence you need with her." 

Zoya frowned. No clever remarks, no finding holes in the system. Her gaze followed Nikolai back to the seat where a witness was seated. Only this time, she was in clear view, and there was no way Zoya could mistaken her for anyone else. 

Not with that red hair, those amber eyes she saw every single morning. 

Genya Safin raised her chin as everyone's attention settled on her.  _ The most I got was her name.  _

Oh, Saints. 

Genya didn't even flinch as she picked up her phone and settled it on the desk in front of her. 

"Miss Safin," said Nikolai, "please recount to the jury what evidence you've gathered." 

Zoya noticed the way her fingers shook slightly as she opened her phone. "As I said, I worked closely with Mr. Lantsov, but I had many friends in the workplace. I was the one people went to when they had trouble, when they needed help, or when they were looking to have a good time. I knew everyone because it was my job to know. I spoke to everyone because I had to." 

She let out a shuddering breath, but when she spoke again, her voice was steady, and strong. "And I never delete a thing." 

Then she set down her phone so the speaker was directed at the microphone, and began playing a recording. It seemed to be an audio message, a woman's broken voice speaking.  _ "Genya, I know you've been through this too. I heard the stories, please, please. Tell me what to do. How do I fix this? I'm scared, Gen. Help me, please." _

The recording ended, and then she played another, and another. Some of them were messages she read out, others full two-sided phone calls she'd recorded. And each of them a new voice confirming Alexander Lantsov's guilt. 

And by the end of it the change in the room was clear. Vasily's face was white as a sheet, Alexander looking just as shaken as his son. The jury had various reactions from horror to anger to some with tears streaming down their faces. And Nikolai Lantsov stood ramrod straight, not daring to look left, his entire posture stiff. 

"Is there anything you'd like to add before we adjourn?" Asked the judge. The words were meant for Nikolai, but he only glanced once at Genya. She nodded, and when she spoke again, her voice was loud and clear, her eyes glaring daggers at Alexander Lantsov. 

"You told me once I was ruined. But I am not ruined, I am ruination." She narrowed her eyes at him. "And I hope you rot in hell for what you've done." 

* * *

Zoya didn't get a chance to see Genya once the hall was cleared up, and Nikolai seemed to disappear just as quickly. It wasn't until hours later that she found the latter wandering around the park a few streets away from their firm, still dressed in that morning's suit, his countenance just as shaken as it had been earlier. 

"What, no celebratory drinks for the win?" Asked Zoya as she approached him. Nikolai looked up with surprise, his features relaxing into a smile when he saw that it was her. 

"The drinks part I'll admit is tempting, but I don't see much of a celebration to be had." He admitted. 

"Don't tell me you're feeling guilty about this morning," she said, eyeing him warily. 

Surprise crossed his features, "saints, no, I'm glad to be rid of the man. Granted, my mother won't so much as look in my direction, but…" he shook his head. 

"Out with it, Lantsov," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. 

He sighed, "it could have been sooner. It  _ should  _ have. If I hadn't left the firm so quickly, if I hadn't let him force me out…" 

Zoya swept him from head to toe with a sharp look, "self-pity doesn't suit you, Nikolai, so drop it." 

"That's not-" 

"Yes, it is. And I don't want to hear it. You did a good thing back there, you can stop dwelling on the past and start working towards something bigger. Like making senior partner." 

He straightened, "what are you talking about?" 

Zoya forced herself not to avert her gaze from the intense look in his eyes. "My client asked for a change in defense. I lost someone for the firm on the same day you cracked a big case, Nikolai, it doesn't take a genius to connect those dots." 

Realization dawned on his face, then to her surprise, a smile spread across his lips. "Tell you what, meet me back here in two hours—and trust me, it's worth it." 

* * *

For the second time in her life, Zoya Nazyalensky was waiting on Nikolai Lantsov. 

He arrived fashionably late, back in something more casual, jeans and a dark collared shirt. Zoya raised a brow, "it's even more surprising when you're late now that I know you own a watch." 

But he didn't wait for Zoya to make her way through the list of snarky comments she'd been preparing, a grin already on his face. It was dark out, and it was definitely getting to be too chilly for the skirt she had on. 

"You make quite the sight outside of work, Nazyalensky," he said, looking her over appreciatively. 

Zoya rolled her eyes, "I hope you didn't drag me out here for more of your fruitless flirting, Lantsov, because I'll just walk away now." 

A smile spread over his features.

"Believe me, you don't want to just yet," 

Without warning, he reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her along with him as he turned back down the street towards… 

Zoya frowned, "where are we going?" 

He didn't answer until they were standing directly in front of it. The same hall they'd been at that morning, the one she'd felt was familiar. It was a plain building with steps leading up to it and large glass doors currently closed. 

For reasons unbeknownst to her, Nikolai dropped her hand. Zoya tried not to be disappointed. 

"Believe it or not, I  _ have _ seen the city before so it'll take more than that to impress me," said Zoya with a raised brow. 

His grin never faltered, "I brought you here for two reasons, Nazyalensky. Let me at least get to the first without you threatening to murder me once, will you?" 

"I'll do my best," she said with a sweet smile. But she had to admit her curiosity was piqued. 

"First, I figured out why you hate me." 

If he didn't look so certain of his statement, Zoya might have laughed. And to her own surprise, she found that her automatic response had been to rebuke it immediately.  _ How could I possibly hate you, you idiot.  _

"Did you find my secret list of reasons to hate Nikolai Lantsov?" She asked dryly. 

"No," he nodded back at the building. "Recognized it, didn't you? This was where we held our first trial. The one you lost. See, I thought you were angry because you lost, but you weren't, were you?" 

She swallowed, her own words echoing back to her from only a few weeks ago,  _ who else would defend a guilty person with such conviction? _

"You were angry because you thought she was innocent." 

Zoya folded her arms over her chest. She had expected something ridiculous, but this had exceeded even those thoughts. Yet something in her wanted to listen. Wanted to hear what he had to say. Because maybe, just maybe, he was right. 

"Which is exactly why I brought these," he announced, teaching into his pocket to retrieve a few folded papers, reaching them out to her with a pleased expression on his face. But Zoya caught the bit of nervousness in his eyes as she took the papers from him. 

"I was there at the trial, Nikolai. I've seen all the evidence." 

"This one's not for the court," he said, "this one's for you." 

It was a list. A list of names she was surprised to find she recognized, and beside them, various amounts of money. Transactions. 

"Nikolai, what is this?" She asked quietly, rereading each name with disbelief. 

"Backup," he admitted, "something I never ended up using because my claim was strong enough without it. But there's the list of witnesses you called, and the amount of money they'd been paid off to give their statements for your client." 

Something like relief, but far more intense, exploded in Zoya's chest. Eight years in prison, and she'd been counting them down, certain she'd made a mistake. How many pro bono cases had she taken just to make up for that loss? She'd come to serve the justice system, and had been so sure it had tricked her somehow. 

"I never would have taken my client's case if I'd known he was in the wrong." Nikolai's words were quiet, his bright hazel eyes intense and honest. 

Saints, they were beautiful. He was beautiful. 

"And the second thing?" She managed, forcing her thoughts away from how the moon's light caught Nikolai's features at just the right angle, the way his golden hair was mussed just right. The urge she had to thread her fingers through it. 

"Ah, that," he said, and now there was definitely a hint of nervousness in his voice. Maybe more than a bit. Were his ears going pink? 

"Nikolai, what is it?" Zoya asked with a frown.

"I might have… lied about the senior partner competition. And the pool." 

Her brows raised in surprise, "you made up a bet to make me feel better about losing?" 

"No, the bet was definitely real. And the fact that Juris is searching for a senior partner is also true," Nikolai swallowed, glancing away. "But he already found one. He told me as much. You're getting it, Zoya, the position has been yours for months now, he's just waiting for the other partners to sign on before asking you." 

Zoya gaped at Nikolai. Everything she had worked for ever since she'd started working at the firm had been this—the chance to become more than just a small piece in the elaborate clockwork of the workplace. She wanted more, had always wanted more. And now… 

"What do you mean the bet was real?" She asked, eyeing him with distrust. 

Nikolai ran a hand through his hair, a telltale sign that he was nervous. "The bet was about you and me. About how long it would take me to convince you to go out with me." 

Zoya stared at him for a long moment, "why would anyone bet on that?" 

Now, he looked less nervous and more… exasperated. "Come on, Nazyalensky. The entire office figured it out, I didn't think it would take the best attorney in our firm so long to catch on." 

Oh.  _ Oh.  _

Zoya was left too struck to speak for a moment. But this was Nikolai. Stupid, stupid Nikolai, the one who'd become her first nemesis and her competition. The same one she'd fought to win against in every single mock trial, and still debated with on every little thing. 

Saints above, it was Nikolai. Always, always Nikolai. 

"You idiot," she said softly. 

His brows drew together in confusion, but whatever he was about to say was silenced when she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to her, catching his lips with hers. 

Nikolai froze for a moment before his mind seemed to catch up with his body, and then one hand came up to cup her face, the other tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer to him, as though he were afraid she'd disappear if he just let go, his lips writing a promise onto hers. 

All thoughts seemed to abandon her as they broke apart, Zoya feeling slightly dizzy from the kiss and Nikolai's expression dazed. 

"Zoya…" he began, a crease appearing between his brows. 

"What?" She asked in the space between their breaths. 

"I owe Genya  _ so _ much money," he admitted. Zoya rolled her eyes, effectively shutting him up by pulling him back to her, his lips expertly parting around hers as she linked her arms around his neck, determined to keep him close.

She knew she now owed Genya a decent some of money too, but Nikolai didn't need to know about that. 


End file.
